Dreams Dreamt

A dream.

That was what fueled Arram to go to a strange place that he knew almost nothing about. But that was it. A crazy yearning he had possessed from the time he was a very small child was making him risk so much.

It was so strong, though. It gripped him so tight. There were days when he woke up feeling the hot conviction burn throughout his soul.

He wanted to be a mage, the most powerful mage that Tyra ever had; wait no, he wanted to be the most powerful mage that the world had ever had.

He knew he could, too. He had heard his parents, along with many others, talked in bewildered tones about the sheer power that their sons possessed. His own instructor felt that Arram was too powerful for even him.

He still wanted that. However, a nervous feeling also mixed in with this want.

He remembered then the warning his mother had told him before he left. She had told him of the mages that got too hungry, that yearned and vied for power that they simply didn't possess. She had told him with wide and worried eyes what the gods did to people like that; thinking about it then made Arram shudder.

He also thought about the other things that could happen there, too. At ten years old, he couldn't help but think of more mundane things, such as being an outcast or not having nice instructors.

All these things pounded in his head as he was about to enter the Carthaki University.

He tried to walk on but he was frozen in his place. He then took a deep breath and thought about what being a powerful mage would be like...

Once more the dream burned bright and steady within him, giving him the strength to walk through the doors of the University.

----

Ten years later, he looked back bitterly on this memory. He would only think of how he should have ran away, forgotten his stupid dreams, because on that day his instincts were telling him something reasonable.

He was huddled against a tree, exhausted, freezing and alone, and it was all because of that stupid, stupid dream.

And my own stupidity, he thought bitterly, Although if I had never dreamed it, this never would have happened. Thinking about Ozorne and his stupidity for ever trusting him consumed him with anger at both that greedy, wretched rascal and himself.

He gave up that dream, though. He gave up everything when he left- his identity( he changed his name to Numair SalmalĂ­n at that point), his lover, his family...

Despite everything, he still had another dream in his head.

It was a dream where everything worked out. It was a dream where he was safe and warm and fed. A dream where he was loved and happy.

Despite how futile he knew it was, it gave him hope and pushed him to survive.

It turned out that that dream didn't turn out the way he hoped it would. It turned out even better.

This is for the prompt ''Dream'' for the monthly JoGeNuDoNaRo challenge. I have to take time to thank DomLuver, who introduced me to the Men of Tortall forum when I read one of her prompts for it. Please review.